


It's Okay, It's Alright

by maddiinosaur



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Please i've literally never posted on here before, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, The Walking Despairs, both very brief and not very important dw, this is really out of context im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27751108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddiinosaur/pseuds/maddiinosaur
Summary: They’re both standing, but Kokichi can’t look down at the ground as he stares at Shuichi in front of him as tears stream down the boy's cheeks. It’s bright all around them and it makes Kokichi’s retinas hurt.Kokichi wants to ask what’s wrong, but his voice won’t work, his mouth won’t move to form the words, his lungs feel like they’ve been stuffed with tinfoil and it’s like every bone in his body is completely paralyzed.Oh.Even like this, he’s as quick as ever.This is a dream.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	It's Okay, It's Alright

**Author's Note:**

> bHjjbkshijfeds hi before you read this let me say theres a lot of things here that are mentioned but never explained, this is because this was based off a zombie apocalypse rp i did with some friends. But yeah, so Kokichi survived an explosion but lost his hearing in one ear and the confession tm happened on the future foundation roof where kokichi had a super cute mental breakdown. idk a lot of things in this wont make much sense so i apologize in advance  
> also barbie im sorry for making u tear up with this ily

Kokichi didn’t understand the point of nightmares.

There’s a whole lot of things in this world he’s come to peace with that he’ll never understand, like how to not burn pancakes, how to read without making the front of his head hurt, why life can be so unbelievably unfair or what in the world he had ever done to deserve Shuichi Saihara.

Kokichi liked making lists, little mental ones to go over in his head. It’s a habit he’d picked up after the whole final battle. It helped him stay grounded, organize his endless train of thoughts that flowed constantly, sometimes it was a quiet babbling brook other times it was a raging river that not a soul could cross. Regardless, it never stopped, even to this day. He’d tried his best to put into words what it was like with his therapist.

Not immediately of course. Kokichi had gone through so many different therapists at first, to Shuichi’s dismay. He’d tried, he really had on Shuichi's behalf to behave, but either the therapists were too soft or too serious. Kokichi was a bit of a critical case, so it had taken many weeks of lying, skipping appointments, angry lectures from Shuichi, faked temper tantrums, even real tears shed until finally they’d found one who was just about right. 

His therapist suggested keeping up making the little mental lists, as it wasn’t harmful and apparently really _did_ help. (He’d been tempted to jokingly brag to Shuichi about how he’d managed to come up with one way to cope without anyone else giving him the idea, but refrained from doing so. Therapy wasn’t quite a touchy subject, but he knew it’d hurt Shuichi if he even jokingly alluded to skipping it or that it was useless. As much as he hated to admit it, it really was helping, slowly but surely.)

Most of his lists were on things he liked or didn’t like, for example, things he found annoying about Rantaro (too good at comforting people, was hardly ever baited into Kokichi’s bullshit because he was too used to dealing with people acting childish, kept blocking his number even when Kokichi pestered poor Shuichi over his shoulder to get Rantaro unblock him.) Why Kaede was an idiot (terrible at reading the room, stupidly overly positive, thought it was a great idea to be with cruel, cruel Rantaro.) 

Or why he loved Shuichi Saihara. (He was kind, he was caring, he was the smartest person Kokichi had ever met, well, besides himself of course, he was _genuine_ , he was honest with him, he gave him space when he needed it but didn’t let him suffer alone, he was _beautiful_ , his eyes saw Kokichi like nobody else did, he accepted him and all his flaws, he-) 

That was probably his longest list yet. It was, in all honesty, a bit embarrassing. Shuichi and Kokichi were always as open as possible with each other (Shuichi only pushed him for the truth if he needed to, Kokichi was able to pick up if Shuichi hid anything from the slightest changes in mannerisms.) but there were a handful of things he still kept to himself, the lists being one of them. 

The list of things he didn’t understand, however, was one that bothered him immensely

Nightmares. As if memories in the day couldn’t hurt people enough, nightmares always had to decide to ensnare innocent people’s otherwise peaceful sleep, torturing them with flashes of memories or even things it completely made up on it’s own. Kokichi simply didn’t understand the point. If his brain was so insistent on protecting him from harm, in one way or another, why did it feel the need to subject him to such horrors? Kokichi liked being in control, but nightmares were one of the few things he was defenceless against. Everyone was. 

If he had the choice he’d get rid of nightmares as a whole. They were stupid, you didn’t gain anything having them, and they were all just a huge headache. He often wonders what’s the point of humans having emotions, if all they do is irritate you.

But Kokichi was no fool, he knew for as long as he lived he’d be plagued by nightmares. Just one of the brilliant perks of being one of the most miserable and tragic creatures on the planet. 

Shuichi had nightmares too, and they were even worse than Kokichi’s. That or Shuichi just wasn’t as resilient to the terrors. Shuichi wasn’t weak, Kokichi was just unbelievably strong. 

The amount of nights he’d been woken with a start by the sound of the other boy crying with his knees curled up to his chest, being too afraid to wake him up despite his constant insisting to wake him if anything like this happened. He hated having to hold Shuichi in his arms in the dead of night as his shoulders shook, whispering carefully crafted words into his ear for nobody but him to hear until his breathing slowed and they could either talk about it or head back to sleep and leave it for the morning. 

He knew why Shuichi had nightmares. And it killed him everyday to know it was partly his fault. It was his fault Shuichi had to suffer like this, images of his own body flashing through his dreams. But he knew dragging himself down into despair over it would do no good. The nightmares weren’t… real. They couldn’t hurt him, not like he’d already been hurt before. They were all fake, a lie. Just a way for him to be reminded of how truly fucked up he was. 

Kokichi’s nightmares were far different. He’d wake from them in the night, barely able to recall clear details all of it mainly being an unpleasant blur of Dice, Shuichi suffering, the Blackened, anything his brain decided to twist and torture him with that night. He’d wake up in a cold sweat, and his eyes would instinctively look at Shuichi's sleeping face, and he'd simply curl up and go back to sleep, holding Shuichi tighter while he listened to his heart beat.

The next morning, he’d hide it. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to tell Shuichi it was just… he was scared. Well, no. He wasn’t scared. Kokichi Ouma doesn’t get scared, but it was more like, he wasn’t used to talking about his issues, even now. He didn’t worry about being a burden, more the small voice that refused to go away all these years would gnaw at him, whispering sickening lies about how he couldn’t let Shuichi know about the nightmares, he couldn’t give him that piece of information for fear of Shuichi betraying him somehow. He hated it. He hated the voice so much. It lied to him, he knew it was bad, and yet his brain always tried to listen to it. The worst part was some of it made _sense_ , so against his will Kokichi was forced to listen to the ugly words. So he wouldn’t bring up the nightmares. He’d smile, act, and go about his morning as usual with the negative thoughts over his head like a storm cloud.

Yet Shuichi knew. He always knew.

Was it the way he’d taken his favourite cereal out of the cupboard? Was it his tone of voice as he said good morning? Kokichi never understands how, hey another thing for his list, but Shuichi could pick up on the slight things, despite Kokichi’s incredible acting.

Kokichi would sit on his usual place on the couch with his far too sugary cereal in his lap, and Shuichi would come up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder (he always put it on his left shoulder. Even now, Kokichi was the slightest bit jumpy when it came to being touched suddenly on his right side because of his stupid deaf ear from all that time ago. He appreciated it so much that Shuichi had somehow managed to pick up on that and always came from the left.) 

He’d look him right in the eyes, and ask one, simple question, words Kokichi had heard many times, 

_“Are you ok?”_

And in those moments he knew he was done for. Shuichi’s eyes kept him pinned in place. Lies tried to form on his tongue, sour like pop rocks fizzling, but they were never able to leave his mouth as Shuichi stared directly at him, barely even blinking. Even now Kokichi still lied, he recalls a particularly nasty argument he’d had with Shuichi over it, they’d both said stupid things because they were frustrated. Frustrated because they cared too much about each other. Shuichi had impulsively said something about how Kokichi shouldn’t lie if it didn’t make him feel good, and he’d shot back with _“That doesn’t mean anything! Alcoholics feel bad about drinking yet they go and do it again anyway!”_ And it had caused a deathly silence to ring through the air. His lying was a habit, an addiction, something that would always be a part of him whether he wanted it to be or not. Shuichi had cried that night afterwards, the syllables of the many “I’m sorrys” bleeding together as Kokichi apologized too. They didn’t fight often, but when they did it was for good reason, and they always became closer in the end. Not everything was perfect, how could it be when they were both still so broken, but they were trying, and as Shuichi looked up at him with tearful, yet understanding eyes that night, he couldn’t help but return the look. 

Shuichi's eyes were like no other, brown, hazel, gold. Kokichi could stare at them for years and never get bored. Call him cliche, but it was so easy to get lost in them. Maybe it’s because Shuichi's eyes saw him, they really saw him. It made him want to cry, laugh and scream all at the same time as his heart swelled like it was about to burst.

He’d then sigh, defeated as Shuichi had already pieced together that something was bothering him, as he put his bowl of cereal aside for it to get soggy and inedible later and speak in a flat, honest tone about what happened. No use beating around the bush when Shuichi knew something. He was like a dog who’d seen a glimpse of a treat and refused to give up until he found it. And Shuichi would listen carefully to each word, his nose sometimes scrunching or even him wincing as he reacted to Kokichi’s words, (he’d think it was rather cute if it weren’t for his less then joyous mood) but he didn’t interrupt, only usually sitting down right beside him so close that their thighs touched. He’d pause, wait 10 seconds after Kokichi finished speaking before pulling him into a hug.

Kokichi had learned over the years to accept hugs. Despite how he acted, he wasn’t all that much of an affectionate person, and too much touching could make his head start to feel like it was constricting painfully around his brain (his therapist has told him that this was him getting overwhelmed, but Kokichi had refused to believe it. He knew they were right of course, but sometimes he just had to stay in denial of things to keep himself sane.) but moments like those when Shuichi wordlessly just knew when he needed a hug meant a lot. In any other situation Shuichi would ask in advance too, which was always… nice. Really nice.

God, if only Kokichi could tell Shuichi how much he loved him. Shuichi was nothing short of his whole world, they were two halves who made a whole together. Kokichi didn’t believe in fate or having someone you were always destined to be with, but he couldn’t even imagine his life without Shuichi Saihara. His world probably wouldn’t even exist without Shuichi. He was his light, his warmth, keeping him together like carefully woven string tying together fabric. He loved him so much it made him want to burst, but that would probably be extremely messy. He doesn’t think Shuichi would be very happy to scrape off bits of Kokichi’s body off the floor, think of how it’d stain the carpet.

——

Crying was something Kokichi could understand a bit better than nightmares. One way or another, people cried when they were upset. Babies cried when they were hungry, kids cried when they fell off their bike and scraped their knees, adults cried for far more complex reasons. Barely anyone shed tears, real genuine tears, over nothing. Sure people cried over stupider things then others, but for one reason or another they cried because they were sad, or angry, or overwhelmed or any other negative feeling like that.

Which is why Kokichi is trying to piece together the reason for why Shuichi is crying in front of him.

They’re both standing, but Kokichi can’t look down at the ground as he stares at Shuichi in front of him as tears stream down the boy's cheeks. It’s bright all around them and it makes Kokichi’s retinas hurt.

Kokichi wants to ask what’s wrong, but his voice won’t work, his mouth won’t move to form the words, his lungs feel like they’ve been stuffed with tinfoil and it’s like every bone in his body is completely paralyzed.

 _Oh._ Even like this, he’s as quick as ever. _This is a dream._

Or from maybe how this is starting it could be turning into a nightmare. Once he can piece together that none of this is real, he tries forcing his body to relax. Or, not his body. All of this is fake, a lie, this isn’t his Shuichi in front of him.

It feels eerily real though, and he doesn’t like it. His dreams are always blurs of shape, colour and noise, never this clear. He’s not sure why that is, maybe it’s some sort of mental block. There’s a few things that he has to force himself, or not himself, to remind him that this is a dream. If this were real his eyes would be blinking and his lungs would be taking in air. He feels a bit like he’s floating.

Well, regardless, he knows he won’t be able to wake himself up on command, even if this is a dream. Any fear or concern he’d felt for the boy crying in front of him had vanished in an instant and he wrinkles his nose.

“Why are you crying?” His voice asks it, but it doesn’t feel like it comes from him. 

“Why aren’t you crying?” Not Shuichi responds almost immediately, and there’s no normal shakiness in his voice like there normally is when someone is crying. It’s an extremely odd sight. There’s a joke somewhere about how Kokichi’s dreams can’t even do the slightest details right but he can’t say it, instead he swallows and the slight wind that comes from nowhere blows through his hair.

“There isn’t really a point to crying, is there?” 

Faint, detached, there’s nothing around them. They stand on a white floor, and that’s all he can be sure of. There’s no ceiling or walls, it’s just an endless field of white nothingness to walk through forever. Yet Kokichi can’t look at his surroundings, his head won’t move, instead he keeps his eyes locked on Shuichi’s. He blinks and Shuichi’s clothes have suddenly morphed to a shirt with dried blood and a bandage wrapped around his shoulder, to top it off there’s a hat on his head. It’s like what he’d worn when they’d first met. Kokichi forces his eyes down to himself (it feels like it takes an entire minute for his eyes to move) and he’s the same too. Fraying white clothes and a… scarf. A checkered scarf. He can even see the uneven stitching in it like this. 

What was this? What was the point in reminding of any of this? 

_It’s a dream_ he firmly reminds himself. _Nothing can hurt you._

“I think there’s a point to crying.” Not Shuichi’s voice sounds the slightest bit younger, a little higher pitched. 

Kokichi would roll his eyes if he could. He brings a hand and tries picking at the edge of his frayed shirt, looking for a piece of string to tear off or just feel in his fingertips. His hands don’t work, the nerves don’t register that he’s trying to touch something. He barely even has a moment to register that his hand isn’t even horribly scarred like normal, it’s smooth and the skin is pale. It puts him on edge.

“Well, I don’t care what you think.” And it’s true. He doesn’t care what this Shuichi thinks, after all he’s not even real. This is a version of Shuichi Kokichi’s mind has somehow stitched together to bother him in this dream. One of the downsides to this, however, is how accurate his brain can be with this. It’s gotten every detail to a point, from Shuichi’s thick eyelashes to even the exactly right height so that his chin has to tilt up the tiniest bit. Maybe all those times of just staring at Shuichi and wondering how someone could be so unfairly beautiful was catching up to him. Because of course he couldn’t have nice things.

Kokichi’s body moves on its own, turning away from the fake Shuichi that’s still crying even now. He faces the endless void of white and he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t wake himself up, but staring into this white void is boring and it burns his eyes. He could look at not Shuichi, but watching him cry is unpleasant, even if it’s not the worst. 

“Ah, that’s a lie, isn’t it?” 

The voice says behind him and he immediately is put on edge because it sounds exactly like Shuichi, or maybe more like a Shuichi from the past. Either way, there’s the slightest unsure twinge in his voice like he’s not confident in his deduction even if he knows it’s right. It causes a spark of anger to rise in his chest, it’s like his dream is mocking him. Despite how he acts, Kokichi absolutely hates being seriously made fun of. He’s sure if he were to turn back around now, not Shuichi’s hand would be tracing the rim of his hat, nervously fiddling with it-

He turns and suddenly the white void turns dark, causing a sharp stab of pain that sparks stars in his vision and his body doesn’t let him rub at his eyes. The odd gentle breeze from nowhere suddenly vanishes. 

Not Shuichi still stands deathly still, his chest not even rising and falling to breathe as tears still shine down his face, but that’s not what has Kokichi’s attention.

There, all around the boy’s feet are bodies. Dead bodies don’t really affect Kokichi, he’d seen enough of them in his time. They were a common fear of so many people, seeing dead people, and it was a cheap way for his head to cause a jolt of sickening unpleasant feeling to shoot through his veins. The edges of the bodies are blurred, like ink that’s been smudged away, so he can’t really make them out. He’s not sure how many there are,7? Maybe 8? Counting them is meaningless. He tries sucking in a breath to calm himself but his lungs won’t intake air as he stares. There’s some sort of anger floating in his mind for his dream, or, well he supposes this could be considered a nightmare now, so easily baiting him to look back at not Shuichi. Isn't he supposed to be cautious? To be smart?

“Why did you do it, Kokichi?”

Hearing his name in that echoey, younger voice causes his throat to tighten and snakes to curl in his stomach, eyes glittering and coiling around anything they can find. When Shuichi, the real Shuichi, says his name, it’s like a melody. Syllables put together to form a sweet, lovely tune that gives him a light feeling in his stomach. Sometimes it’s shortened to an affectionate ‘Kichi’ or edged in annoyance, or filled with seriousness, or filled with so much unfiltered, raw love that it sets his heart aflame. Shuichi always says his name like he means it, he really means it. He says it like he knows all of Kokichi’s little flaws and ticks yet still loves him no matter what.

This Shuichi’s voice isn’t anything like that. There’s no emotion in his voice, not the slightest tendrils of warmth. It’s like an ice cube in his mouth that he can’t move or take out to let his mouth warm, instead it sits heavy in one spot and it burns. It’s so cold it burns.

He blinks, and tries to reply, but it really does seem like his mouth is filled with ice that won’t melt because nothing comes out. His eyes flicker from the blurred bodies on the ground and to not Shuichi’s face. 

Not Shuichi looks at him back, he doesn’t glance away from him for a single moment. Shuichi’s eyes are always moving, even when they’re still. His pupils always take in the little details and analyze like no others. It’s stunning. These eyes don’t do that, there’s no light behind them and his face pinches slightly like it’s surprised and bothered that Kokichi didn’t reply. 

“Don’t you recognize them?” 

It’s like an echo in a long hallway now, detached and far away, but Kokichi hears the words loud and clear, even with the high ringing that’s started to play in his ears. Ears… is that why this is all so disorientating? He can hear from both of them. As much as he hates not having hearing in one ear, he’d rather have the one deaf ear than go through this.

He feels like he knows what he’s going to see, and his heartbeat quickens. The air turns frigid but he knows he can’t be afraid, he can’t show his own brain that it has any kind of control over him. This is all fake, all of this is just a stupid dream. He keeps desperately reminding himself of it, and there’s a voice in his mind begging him to wake up but he can’t. He’s stuck here. There’s no Shuichi here for him to wrap his arms around for comfort, he’s alone in this place pieced together by his own mind. It’s like some sick, sick game.

Well, if it’s a game he’s not going to lose. He’s not going to be afraid. This is his mind. He already knows the horrors it’s been subjected to and forced him through every single day. He isn’t scared.

His legs feel like rubber as his eyes travel down, and if there was oxygen in the air for him to breathe he’d be holding his breath.

The corpses are the same, still hazy and unrecognizable with wounds on their body that he can’t properly process. They’re scattered around, but only about a meter or so apart from each other. He scans to count them all and-

9

There’s 9 bodies.

He feels an awful sinking feeling in his stomach, and as if it was waiting for it’s queue, the moment to make it’s grand entrance, the corpses change.

It’s like watching one of those documentaries where they show plants growing but sped up, morphing and changing little by little. Hands become clearer, white uniforms gain buttons, checkered patterns begin spreading across scarves around their necks like paint bleeding on wet paper. He knows what’s coming, he _knows_ what he’s going to see but he can’t look away. Kokichi tries repeating to himself that he isn’t looking away because he’s not scared, he’s not afraid of the past. He’s accepted it, accepted how everything is fucked up and it’ll never not be fucked up, he’s moved on, he’s fine. 

He digs his nails hard enough into his palms to draw blood as the corpses of Dice lay all around both him and not Shuichi. 

Their bodies are twisted laying on the ground, limbs bent the wrong way, red blood so horribly clear on their white uniforms. Kokichi had always chosen not to remember the details of what had happened to Dice. They were all dead, some of the only people he’d ever truly cared about were dead, that’s all he needed to know. The people who’d been his friends, his real friends, in a world with so many awful things. Memories flash through his mind, of stupid conversations, laughs, and smiles. Real smiles. They’d been his everything, he doesn’t think there had been a happier period in his life when he was with them. 

Thinking about the details wouldn’t get him anywhere, he wouldn’t gain anything from it. Talking with his therapist and Shuichi about it… he doesn’t even think he remembers the details. Not properly. He’d been told that sometimes when humans experience something traumatic they choose to delete it from their minds, leaving it at the very back on their memories but always just out of reach, an inch away from your fingertips, like a safe that you’re only one number away from unlocking, but you can never quite find it, no matter how many times you try. He’d almost been grateful for it, after all these years he hadn’t had to properly think about what happened because his brain had put up that mental wall to protect him. Kokichi’s mind in general was absolutely awful at protecting him, but that was one of the few things that let him remain sane.

There was no wall in sight here, there wasn’t even the faintest trace of the debris or dust rising in the air to obscure his vision.

Blood pools on the ground, the awful scent of metal burning his sinuses so bad that his hand goes to cover his nose on instinct, but there’s no movement. One moment his hand is at his side the next it’s in his face as he stares in nothing but horror. It’s thick, dark puddles of it, flowing from the corpses and refusing to cease like some morbid river. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle this if it weren’t for the clown masks obscuring all their faces.

Some of the bodies had clean injuries. A single stab to the gut, a head dented in but nothing more. In his panic he’s trying to properly process how a blackened would be able to even stab someone so cleanly when it properly hits him and his throat tightens. One of the girls closest to him, her hair spread around her, has a bloodied knife in her hand tightly, muscles in her cold fingers refusing to let go even after death. Her blood is already starting to spread to the tips of his shoes but he can’t move. He’s paralyzed. It only takes him 2 seconds of looking at how the wound in her gut looks to realize what that meant. Some of Dice had taken their own lives rather than kill their blackened loved ones.

It was Dice’s biggest weakness. Looking back now it had completely been his fault. He let them all get too close, too dependent on each other. They’d been living in a world where any of them could die at any moment yet they acted like they were invincible. Kokichi had convinced them all that together, no blackened could even come close to them. He’d done this. He had been blind. Instead of preparing them for the inevitable truth of one of them dying, he’d convinced them all that none of them would die. They got even closer in that lie, that awful, awful lie, and it had been the very thing that killed all of them but one. So when it had happened, when some of them had been turned to blackened right in front of them, the weaker ones couldn’t handle it. They’d turned their knives on themselves.

No… weaker wasn’t the right word. They weren’t weak, Kokichi had made them weak with his perfectly curated lies prepared well in advance about them all being ok, about making it out of this together, about them all being happy together in the end, because they were Dice. As long as they had each other they were unbreakable.

It’s almost laughable now, how correct he’d been with that last sentence amongst all the lies. As long as they had each other they were unbreakable. What did that make Kokichi, the sole survivor of the carnage, then?

His eyes trail to the other corpses, and it’s not him doing it. He’s trying desperately to turn his head away and look at anything else, but like this he’s not in control. He can’t even scream. 

Other corpses are… blackened. The skin that’s visible under the white clothing is black and rotted, flesh falling off and sagging, outlining bone. Some of them are only half blackened, while others are completely unrecognizable. If it weren’t for each of their masks being unique Kokichi wouldn’t even know who they were. 

The wounds. There’s so many of them, too many. Some inflicted long after death. It feels like he’s suffocating as he wants so badly to look away but this nightmare won’t let him be free. Desperately he’s trying to tell himself still that it’s just a dream, but that little voice in his head seems to grow farther and farther away as his mind gives into panic and horror. 

There’s uniforms that are so tattered with claw marks, flesh ripped to shreds and some in pieces on the ground. They’re feral, uncoordinated and uncontrolled injuries, done by hands who’d never want to do it in any other situation, hands that were forced to do it by one single disease. The entire time not Shuichi has been staring, staring and staring at him, not blinking, not even human as he stands. He tenses when he sees one of the girls farther back, one of her legs barely even attached to her corpse, and his body decides to let him move again and he reflexively takes a step back when-

His foot lands on something. Kokichi’s eyes immediately look down for what it’s is, a corpse maybe or-

Head.

Silver hair and a masked face, with the ragged shreds of a neck that’s rolled from it’s corpse. It’s not natural, it’s not right. There’s blood in the scalp and the blood coming from the remains of the neck starts to get to his shoes. The neck isn’t clean cut, it’s choppily severed, like it had sustained so much damage that the bone and flesh there just couldn’t handle it and it had separated. The head stares up at him, motionless and cold. He knew the face behind it, it’s the face of someone who’d grinned when they pulled stupid pranks, laughed at all their lame jokes and who’s eyes lit up with hope when Kokichi had told him they’d all live through it. They’d been alive, so alive. 

Kokichi _screams._

He immediately jumps back in utter horror, reflexively trying to kick away the severed head without even thinking. He ends up landing backwards and desperately tries scrambling away as the head hits the ground farther away from him. There’s nails driven in the head from where he’d kicked it and he can see the mask starting to break away to reveal-

The ringing in the air reaches deafening volume and he forces himself to squeeze his eyes shut and brings his hands to press tightly against his head to make it stop. The sound, this nightmare, make it all go away. He can’t do this. He can’t push any of this away in his mind and lock it in a box and throw the key away, he can’t escape this. 

“Why are you doing this to me?!” 

He doesn’t know who he’s asking, but it’s half directed at the not Shuichi that still stands motionless there. He yells it while still keeping his eyes tightly closed. Any thoughts of trying to remember that this isn’t real to comfort himself are completely gone in an instant as his mind succumbs to panic and horror. Because this is real. This pain that feels like his head’s about to split in two is real. This fear is real. All of this, the severed head, the stab wounds, the blackened bodies, it’s real. This had really happened. It was his fault, no matter how hard he tried to run from he was responsible for this.

He’d done this. He’d killed all of Dice. He’d killed his family. They were everything he had and because of his own stupidity he’d murdered them all.

There’s no sound. The silence is so loud in the air. Kokichi can feel his hands shaking and he wants to look up to see but he’s terrified of what he’ll find. There’s warm, awful smelling liquid starting to pool on the ground where he sits and he doesn’t even have to look to know what it is. The air is so cold yet the blood is so warm. It’s not a good contrast.

“Kokichi, open your eyes.” 

What? It’s Shuichi’s voice, or it sounds like Shuichi’s voice. It sounds muffled, like he’s hearing him from underwater. 

His mind is desperate, so the first conclusion he comes to is he’s woken up and his Shuichi, the real Shuichi, has come to rescue him. It would make sense, right? It has to make sense. He takes his hands away from his ears slowly and carefully and opens his eyes to look up.

What a fool he is. He’s nothing but a fool to trust anything like this.

The place they’re in is no longer totally black, but it’s still dark. He immediately realizes he’d been lied to, he’d started to believe it was okay and he was awake from Shuichi voice but it had been a lie. A cruel cruel lie he’d been stupid enough to fall for. He thinks he sees clouds in his blurred peripheral vision but that’s not what he’s focused on. Strings.

Strings. Not Shuichi is closer now, standing right above him as he looks down at his stupid cowering frame. Strings. Strings. Strings.

Dice’s corpses are being held up by bright red strings, like puppets in a show. There’s no life, no movement. They just dangle, their limbs sagging and their heads lolling to the sides. There’s an awful creaking noise coming from them and Kokichi catches sight of a headless body and immediately knows who’s it is.

Despite them being dead, they speak. Terrible, disgusting voices from throats that have rotted away or so filled with blood it comes out as a hissing gurgle. 

“Why didn’t you save us, Kokichi?”

“Aren’t you our leader?”

“Why didn’t you help us?!”

“Kokichi!”

“Why did you want us to die?”

“You were supposed to protect us!” 

“You said we’d be all right!”

“You lied!”

“You lied to us!”

“Liar!”

“Liar!”

“Liar!”

Their voices all mingle together to make an unbearable amount of noise, he can’t focus on any of their words. The strings are being manipulated by some unforeseen force, and each of their jaws move under their masks as they speak, but it’s not right. Nothing about this is right. It’s all out of sync. Their limbs are moved and there’s a horrible ripping sound, like their rotting flesh and bones are being pulled apart as they come closer to him, surrounding him and the noise, the smells, the sight, it’s all too much for him. He somehow manages to find his footing and stands on shaky legs that feel like they’re made of lead, able to snap at any moment. Kokichi takes shaky yet urgent steps back, trying to put distance between not Shuichi, Dice, and himself but for every one step he takes it’s like they move two steps forward.

It’s nothing short of horrifying. Kokichi’s mind can’t process, he can’t think of what to do, a clever plan to get out of this to make all of it stop. All he can do is stare at the dead faces of Dice and the boy he loves more than anything in the world as they torment him, rotted hands reaching out jaggedly to grab his arms but he just manages to stay out of reach. His throat feels like it’s completely closed up. It’s nothing like in horror movies, where when the main character sees horrors like this there’s always dramatic screams and exaggerated reactions. But right now, Kokichi can’t even make the faintest of whispers, his mouth feels like it’s filled with dry cotton and his tongue has been cut out. 

His back hits something metal and he has to stop, and he has to force himself to tear his eyes away from the still oncoming threat to look.

Railing. His back hit the railing along the edge of a roof.

It finally hits him where he is. This is the roof of the future foundation. 

Memories hit him like a truck, the confession, the breakdown and the sides of his head begin pounding in pain, a steady rhythm making him want to tear his hair out and split his head open. He looks back at Dice and Shuichi still coming closer. One of Dice’s members, the youngest of them all who’d been something of a beloved little sister to all of them, reaches out particularly far and there’s a horrible cracking sound like a watermelon being dropped on concrete as her entire arm comes off. The strings keep it suspended in the air and there’s no reaction of pain or any sign of life, just movement.

He’s about to throw up.

Kokichi turns back to the edge of the roof and there’s a thought. A horrible thought. Two little words that he recalls thinking that day, as Shuichi held him so tightly it could have bruised.

_How high?_

His brain scrambles to back track. This isn’t back then, this isn’t real, he isn’t on the future foundation roof, he isn’t he isn’t he isn’t. This is a dream. None of this is real, none of this can hurt him. His panicked mind latches on to the first thing it can come up with and he thinks back to something he’d seen about dreams. Dreams end when you die in the dream, because your brain, despite how it can make the corpses of your loved ones dance on strings or perfectly recreate the roof you’d mentally broken on, it simply doesn’t know what comes after death. It can’t create anything false or some lie because it doesn’t have a clue, so it forces you awake.

He looks to the edge of the roof. He can’t see the ground. But this is the best chance he has, isn’t it? To get this just over with, to make all of the noise stop. 

He looks back at not Shuichi’s blank face and Dice, only 3 meters away as they quickly approach. He feels his eyes start to sting.

 _It’s not real,_ he tells himself as he puts his hands on the railing and hoists himself up. It’s not real, he tells himself again as he properly stands on the railing, it’s unsteady, or maybe it’s just his own body shaking that’s making it unsteady.

 _It’s not real,_ he has to tell himself as he turns to look back at not Shuichi’s face, tears still falling down his face.

He sucks in a breath, even if there’s no oxygen. It’s just like when they’d first met, it’s easy, you just lean backwards and-

He closes his eyes as he feels his body teeter before he goes down off the railing and he’s falling through the air.

He fell backwards, and the wind is pushing against his back and ruffling his clothes in a manner that almost completely takes his breath away. He starts gaining speed and the pressure only increases as his hair whips around his face and he refuses to open his eyes to see what this is like. He feels his heart dropping along with his body as his stomach does flips. He doesn’t want to see the faces of not Shuichi and Dice staring down at him as he goes down, he just wants this all to be over with. 

He tries to intake a breath to calm himself as his survival instincts are going insane, red lights blinking danger danger danger go off in his mind but he just needs to remember this is not real. None of this is real. And soon this’ll be over with and he’ll wake up and-

There’s hands around his wrists.

He’s still free falls but his eyes open in utter shock.

Gold eyes meet his.

Shuichi is falling with him, his hands around his wrists and holding them painfully tight, hard enough that if this weren’t a dream they’d probably bruise. 

He looks beautiful, he’s always beautiful. Kokichi really must have a problem because in this dream he has every detail down to the point. Shuichi's lashes are thick and frame his eyes perfectly, his lips are thin but lovely and Kokichi could stare at them for hours. Shuichi's hair is whipping around his face as they fall, yet he isn’t even squinting at the wind pressure in his face. And his eyes. Over the years he’d come to peace with that he’ll never be able to settle on if they’re brown, hazel or gold, but right now they couldn’t have been any other colour then gold. 

They _shine._ They’re like bright yellow leaves in autumn, precious jewelry you see in stores. They give him butterflies.

And yet, they shine too much here. There’s tears in them even now, being whipped away by the wind the moment they leave his eyes, and the moment is lost as Kokichi realizes what’s happening.

He glances to the side and the corpses of Dice fall with them, no longer held by the strings. They’re like dolls, not humans, not the people he once loved. It feels like everything is getting darker as the dread returns and he looks back at not Shuichi’s face that’s far too close to his.

“You think you could run from us?” Not Shuichi’s voice sounds sickenly sweet like cotton candy dissolving in your mouth and settling into a stomach ache. It’s nothing like the real one. 

“Why- why are you- please just l-“ He somehow finds his voice, and it’s all just pitiful half formed pleas to just let this _end._ He doesn’t want to do this anymore, he never wanted this from the start. He forgets about what he’d thought earlier about not showing any fear to this nightmare, he’s lost this game. Everything is just a losing game. 

“You can’t run from everything you’ve done, Kokichi.”

He hates this. He hates this so much. He hates looking at the man he loves more than anything in this world, the man who’d saved him, been his reason to go on, someone he trusted, he trusted him so much and feel such fear rising in his chest threatening to choke him. Because he’s afraid. He’s terrified right now. He can’t keep lying to himself and stitch together some false truth about how he’s ok with all this happening right now. He’s not. He knows this isn’t real, but his brain is screaming about trust and trusting Shuichi and how he feels not one bit of it for the fake here falling with him.

“Please just, enough of this shit! Let me _out.”_

His voice sounds pathetically desperate but he doesn’t know what else to do anymore. He’s trying so hard to avoid the corpses all around them as they keep falling, he doesn’t even know how long it’s been since he’d first jumped. Too long. They should have hit the ground long ago.

“You know I can’t do that. You have to face what you’ve done. All of this is your fault, don’t you get it?” Not Shuichi’s hands leave his wrists and come forward to cup his face. His smile reminds him of a snake waiting to strike as he grins at him in a way that’s so unlike his Shuichi that his mind is having trouble processing it along with the noise of distant screaming and wind in his ears.

“I know that already! Just please stop it! Stop it! Let- Stop it!” 

Kokichi Ouma doesn’t beg, but he can’t handle this anymore. His heart already feels like it’s soaring but not in a good way from falling. He wants to close his eyes, cover his ears and just make this all end but he’s pinned to the spot by not Shuichi’s eyes and his cold, cold hands. 

He’s trying to shake his head in a pointless attempt to block this all out when he feels not Shuichi’s face come closer to his. His entire body tenses and his eyes widen and before he can so much as blink not Shuichi’s lips are on his.

Kissing Shuichi has always left him in a bit of a daze. You’d think Kokichi would be the one who initiates most of their kisses but no, it’s mainly Shuichi. They’re usually soft and sweet, Shuichi being far more patient than him and being sturdy like an anchor keeping him from getting lost. It makes an overwhelming feeling of pure love rise in his chest.

This is nothing like that. Shuichi has always been so much warmer than him, but not Shuichi is cold. He’s absolutely freezing. Kokichi isn't really one to talk, since more times than not he’s always rather cold due to poor circulation but this is nothing like him. It’s like it’s burning him with how cold it is. And his mouth… he can feel the awful taste of metal in his mouth and that’s finally what it takes for him to be knocked back into his senses.

Kokichi immediately is trying to push him off, keeping his lips in a tight thin line as he struggles, using his fists, his legs, anything but not Shuichi won’t back off. He feels bile rising in his throat and he’s sure if this weren’t a dream he’d be throwing up now. This isn’t Shuichi, this isn’t who had grown to be the person he loves the most in the world. There’s nothing but malice surrounding this twisted nightmare Shuichi.

“Stop- stop it! You’re not- stop it stop it stop it STOP IT!” 

He’s not even properly processing his words anymore, they come out the moment he think them without a filter, it’s so unlike him. His chest feels like it’s burning him and not Shuichi’s touch hurts so bad. All of it hurts. It’s like nails being driven into his skin.

While he’s desperately struggling and squirming to get the hell away while they continue to fall, not Shuichi suddenly pulls his face away from his, and there’s a moment where not Shuichi just stares at his distress with the same blank expression as before. Kokichi just relieved that he’s finally stopped and glares, trying to pull his face away from not Shuichi’s cold hands. There’s blood coming from not Shuichi’s mouth, rolling down his mouth and being pulled away by the wind.

“Kokichi.” 

The voice is gurgled and muffled from the blood, and some of it probably would have landed in Kokichi’s face if they weren’t still falling with their hair flying everywhere. 

Slowly, not Shuichi’s hands gently trail away from his face, slowly like the touch is supposed to be loving and before he can even speak they’re closing around his throat. 

“No- no no no- stop! _No!”_

If he was panicked before this was _nothing_ compared to now. He can feel memories flashing in his mind, each one causing a blinding pain in his temples as his body lashes out violently against the attacker. He can feel not Shuichi’s hands starting to morph and change as the grip tightens, turning into something more like claws than hands. The tips of the claws dig into his skin and cause blood to be drawn as his mouth begins foaming.

“Kokichi.” 

Tears, angry tears, upset tears, terrified tears start forming in his eyes. He keeps kicking in the air, doing anything to get it to stop. Make it all stop. He’ll do anything to make this all stop. His jaw clenches so hard he feels like he’s going to break his teeth as the crushing pressure on his windpipe causes any threads of sanity he had to be ripped away from him with the wind in the air as he lets out a hoarse scream.

“I love you.”

_No. No. No no no no no no no no no no no no nonononononononononononono-_

“Lyi- Stop- stop it! Please stop! You’re lying! Stop- You’re lying- Stop it! You’re- YOU’RE A LIAR- STOP IT, STOP-“

“Kokichi.”

No more, he can’t do this anymore.

“Kokichi.” 

He’s tired, he’s so tired of this. He doesn’t want this anymore.

“Kokichi!” 

Why did it have to do this to him? Why? He finally had something _good_ in his life. Shuichi was something good. Kokichi had been through so much, and Shuichi was the one thing keeping him together. So why? Why did his brain force him through this? Why did it have to torture him every single day like this? Hadn’t he been punished enough? Hadn’t he been betrayed enough? Hadn’t he seen enough people die? What more did it want from him? He had nothing, absolutely nothing more to give, nothing more for them to take. So why? Why? Why? _Why?-_

“KOKICHI!” 

...

Darkness. That’s the first thing his mind can process. 

He feels his head move far too quickly and he gets dizzy from it despite still not being able to properly see. What was this? Is this another dream? A nightmare? There’s more? How much longer does he-

“Kokichi.”

Voice. A voice. There’s ringing in his ears and the screams from Dice and the echoes of the fake Shuichi’s words oozing in malice replaying in his mind so it’s a bit difficult to hear. His head is pounding, why does it hurt so much? His chest burns too, like his lungs are being squeezed by his ribs. 

“Kokichi- Kichi- breathe, please, breathe.”

Breathe? Who’s telling him to breathe? Why do they sound so desperate? Why does he need to breathe? Why can’t he breathe? What’s going on? 

“Kokichi, please. Kokichi can you hear me? Kokichi?” 

Everything is fuzzy and faint like TV static, but somewhere in his mind there’s a small voice telling him to try and calm the hell down. It’s the first logical thing he can do.

He inhales a breath of air through his nose, it’s not cold and sharp like before, instead it’s normal and room temperature and smells… familiar. He then exhales, and some feeling comes back to his body. He keeps inhaling and exhales through his nose, taking in big breaths of air before his blurry vision can finally focus.

He’s in a room, and it takes him only a moment to realize this is his room, or rather, his and Shuichi’s. He’s on the mattress with his knees pulled close to him, his body still as cold as ever but not like the fake Shuichi in his nightmare. There’s a pillow beside him. He doesn’t have his old tattered uniform from the apocalypse on, or even his scarf. He’s in thick loose pyjama pants and a soft dove gray shirt that threatens to fall off his shoulder with the size of it and definitely doesn’t belong to him. They’re comfortable. His entire body is sweating.

His blurred vision flickers around the room. The white sheets are on the edge of their bed, had he kicked them there? He can’t be sure. His sore eyes look at the shapes of their wardrobe, the floor, the window that he insists on keeping the curtains open to before finally-

Shuichi. 

His breath hitches and he blinks a couple of times to process this.

Shuichi looks terrified. He has a bit of a bad case of bed hair, the little piece that always sticks up more obvious than ever. He’s in a loose blue t-shirt and boxers, he’s sitting on his knees over him and his eyes are wide and scared. Shuichi has never hid his emotions, that or he’s never been good at hiding them. Shuichi is an absolutely awful liar, and with someone like Kokichi who can detect any lies a mile away there’s no hiding from him. That being said, Shuichi happens to be one of the most clever people he knows, and after all this time he’s gotten almost scarily good at picking out his lies.

Shuichi has his hands raised, like he was about to do something with them, but stopped, so now they just hang awkwardly in the air. His eyebrows are pinched and his lips are pressed together and his face doesn’t hide a single bit of the worry he’s clearly feeling.

Kokichi’s eyes finally trail up to Shuichi’s eyes and his breathing completely stops.

Brown, hazel, gold. There’s so much concern, genuine concern in them that isn’t masked or hidden in anyway. They’re wide and frightened, and he thinks he can see the start of tears starting to form in them, but they’re just real. Shuichi is real, he’s here, and he’s safe.

And yet, he can’t force his body to relax. All he can see in his mind are the strung up corpses of Dice and the fake Shuichi’s eyes replaying like a broken record. How it had smiled in such a twisted way with blood dribbling out of it’s mouth and how it’s hands had constricted around his throat. Speaking of which, Kokichi’s own hands are pressed around his throat, not squeezing it but almost like he’s protecting it, blocking it from the harm that doesn’t even exist outside his own mind. He wishes he had his scarf with him, he really wishes he did.

He’s afraid. He’s afraid of Shuichi. But what’s worse is just the concern, the worry. Shuichi has such a stressed expression on his face because of him, it’s because he’s getting so stupidly worked up over a nightmare that wasn’t even real. He’s silently cursing himself for even waking Shuichi up in the first place, had he been moving around a lot? Damn it. It’s like Shuichi’s eyes are pinning him to the spot and his throat tightens.

 _Stop._ He wants to say. _Stop looking at me like that, please. It hurts._ But he can’t quite find his voice. Instead, he buries his face in the palms of his hands and sucks in air again, curling in on himself, trying to grasp onto the faintest threads of composure. His eyes sting, he’d been crying, hadn’t he? Pathetic. That would just be something Shuichi could easily use against him. He knows what’s happening, he can feel it, his mind is starting to wind back and go back to his old ways without him commanding it. But Kokichi feels like he's alone again, despite Shuichi being right there. He knows, he knows Shuichi wouldn’t think he was weak for having a nightmare or something but can he really be sure? What if the fake Shuichi in the dream had been some kind of warning? That after years of faking, Shuichi is finally planning to reveal his true nature and how he never cared about and was going to leave him all alone, pack all his things and abandon him like everyone else ha-

Music.

He blinks from behind his hands, desperately trying to hold himself back but his ear listens.

It’s a sweet tune, a sad tune. Bittersweet. It’s supposed to be some sort of lullaby. The voice humming it is rough, tired, scratchy. There’s no fancy vocal things added to it, it’s just straight notes, raw and unfiltered.

The melody is familiar, and Kokichi’s mind is suddenly brought back to nights before this. Shuichi’s body in his arms as they lay on the bed, sobs shaking his entire body as Kokichi gently runs a hand through Shuichi’s hair, muttering soft words for only his ears to hear and trying to hum a few notes of the song. He doesn’t know it well, he’s only caught parts of it when Shuichi thinks nobody’s listening while he cooks or when he walks past the shower door, but he knows enough to string together the basic melody. Kokichi doesn’t have a good voice by any means, but Shuichi had never cared. It wasn’t about skill, it was about simply comforting the boy in his arms.

Now, with the roles reversed like this, with Shuichi humming in an unsure way, and Kokichi digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, Kokichi almost laughs, because there isn’t much else he can do.

He doesn’t though, or rather he can’t. Laughter feels like such a far away thing right now.

Shuichi scratchy voice is still humming, and Kokichi is trying so hard to stay composed, to stop himself from completely snapping because the stupid part of his brain is telling him he can’t break in front of someone else, but it’s only 5 seconds before he cracks and he suddenly barrels himself into Shuichi, wrapping his arms painfully tight around the boy’s torso and clinging to him like he’s drowning.

Kokichi is scared. He’s terrified. He wants the voices in his head to just be quiet for once, for them to stop his mind from feeling like it’s about to split in two. He’s terrified that if he lets go of Shuichi now, the voice will only get louder and louder, whispering ugly lies about how he shouldn’t be getting this close to someone, this’ll bite him in the back in the end, all of this is bad, he can’t trust anyone but himself. Shuichi had stopped humming for only a moment in favour of letting out a surprised gasp at Kokichi sudden movement, but it only takes a moment before he resumes the song. Shuichi wraps his arms around him slowly and carefully, so that Kokichi has a chance to push him away at any moment, and pulls him in closer, Kokichi’s face is pressed in his chest. 

Even now, like this, Kokichi’s still trying desperately to hold back. His shoulders are shaking with the effort, but he keeps his mouth shut tightly, fighting back any sob that threatens to try and escape his sore throat. 

He isn’t weak. He isn’t going to fall apart at the seams because of a simple nightmare that was all in his head. He knew holding back didn’t do him any good, and Shuichi never held back when he cried after a nightmare, but… the foolish part of him that never shuts up no matter what he does tells him it’s wrong. It won’t give him a rational reason, but it tells him he shouldn’t just cry, he shouldn’t show the weak side of him that has human emotions.

He feels Shuichi’s arms tighten around him.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” 

Kokichi completely stills for a moment, his eyes stare at nothing as he keeps his forehead pressed against Shuichi, his trembling ceasing, before he feels something break. Thin threads holding him together snap and his throat tightens painfully as a strangled sob is ripped from him and his fists close around the back of Shuichi’s loose blue shirt. He squeezes his eyes shut as a warm overwhelming feeling rises up hot to his face and scalding tears escape his eyes.

It’s so much. It’s so much for just one boy to handle. All these emotions, all this loss, all this pain, it’s more than anyone deserves. 

Shuichi Saihara. Kokichi could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve the boy. He thinks back to his list, and this is truly something he’ll never understand. Kokichi is loud, mean, he insults people for his own entertainment and jeers at them because of his own stupid fear of being close to people. He’s too small for his age, often being mistaken for a young teenager even now, his eyes are too big, his laugh is annoying and his scars. The scars from the explosion pattern all over his body, prominent and rough to touch. He sees how people will look at him in the stores if they don’t immediately recognize him as the boy who took down the leader of the despairs. It’s pity, pity that such a frail weak boy has so many ugly scars. Even now, he’ll forget he can’t hear out of one of his ears when he goes to put both earbuds in. He’s broken, an absolute mess of a person, a walking breathing tragedy. 

Yet Shuichi Saihara saw something in him.

Shuichi had reached out for him. He’d been the only one to properly extend a hand and never retract it. It wavered at times, but it had never left, always there, patiently waiting. And then, finally, Kokichi had taken it. It hadn’t been his entire hand at first, it had been gradually. He linked his pinkie with his, then his pinkie and ring fingers, and soon their hands were both intertwined together, two halves of one whole. They completed each other.

In moments like these, Kokichi can’t help but think back to when he was a child. Every kid had nightmares, but Kokichi especially had many reasons to have them. After all, none of the beds he’d slept in were ever truly his. Foster homes. Kokichi doesn’t remember much about his childhood, but one of the most prominent parts is he remembers it being cold. Not just in the air, but with how everyone acted. People were… cold there. Heartless. It was everyone for themselves in that world, a world not even Shuichi could begin to understand.

He remembers having nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat and pulling his knees to his chest to hide his face from the world, crying his eyes out for nobody to hear, nobody to listen. He’d wrap his arms around himself and try so hard to remember, squeezing his eyes shut as he did everything his little mind could to try and remember what it was like to have someone care for him, what it was like to have someone’s arms embrace him. But he couldn’t. Try as he might, he just couldn’t remember. He’d forgotten what his mother’s voice sounded like comforting him, forgotten what it felt like to feel another person’s warmth. Nobody bothered looking at him, listening to him, anything like that. 

Shuichi listened to him.

Shuichi held him.

And Shuichi was warm. He was so warm compared to the cold of the room in the foster home as he cried alone. 

The pitiful sobs that bubble out of his mouth are embarrassing, and part of him wishes dearly that he wasn’t crying and could just brush this off but he can’t, he simply can’t do it. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know how to properly handle crying since Kokichi never cries, but regardless his shoulders shake, his entire body burns, his throat tightens and his breathing is sharp and uneven as he just cries while Shuichi holds him so dearly. In his head he hears something trying to protest this, but he repeatedly keeps playing Shuichi words over and over again in his head. 

_It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay._

….

Minutes ticked by, the only sound other than Shuichi’s quiet humming and Kokichi’s pathetic cries is a watch Shuichi sometimes wears, resting on the small table by the bed, ticking so quietly you can only hear it in dead silence.

Minutes tick by, and soon Kokichi’s awful crying begins to calm down. You’d think he’d be more of a silent crier, but because Kokichi never really cries often it’s like his body tries to make up for all the time he didn’t cry.

Shuichi holds him the entire time, rubbing comforting circles on his back that bunch the fabric of Kokichi’s shirt that he stole from Shuichi. The sensation helps immensely, keeping him grounded and after quite a bit of time his breathing starts to slowly even a little and the tears stop coming in a steady stream down his cheeks, only a few falling from his lashes every now and again. Shuichi must feel him relax slightly, but still holds him just as tight.

“Kichi?”

Shuichi's voice is gentle, soft, like he’s talking to a wounded animal. Kokichi doesn’t really like it, but he can’t hold it against Shuichi. He doesn’t quite trust his voice yet, and merely hums in reply. He can still feel himself struggling to breathe, but the worse of his panic has definitely subsided. He isn’t hyperventilating anymore.

“Can you name 5 things you can see?”

Ah, right. This. It was common for Kokichi to do with Shuichi when he had a nightmare. Focusing on things around them to bring them back down to earth. Shuichi was probably desperately trying to think of things to do in this situation, since things like Kokichi crying only happen once in a blue moon. It’s almost completely unheard of. Kokichi intakes a deep breath through his nose.

“S’kinda... hard to do when you still have my face pressed against your chest, idiot.” 

His voice is unsteady, thick and scratchy, and he tries not to wince at how it sounds in his ear, yet it’s still blunt. Even like this, he can somehow manage half an insult. Shuichi huffs, and he’s clearly not offended whatsoever by the little jab. It’s common for Kokichi to do when he’s overwhelmed, and Shuichi definitely heard that there was no malice in his tone. It’s one of the many, many things he likes about Shuichi, he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally offending him with his words, since Shuichi is able to pick up the slight shifts in tone. 

Shuichi stays still for a moment before shifting, the sound of their loose clothing shuffling as he loosens his arms around Kokichi, bringing them away from his shoulder and straightens his back so he’s sitting on his legs in front of Kokichi. He doesn’t completely bring his hands away, instead letting them rest on either side of his thin hips. His hands are warm, they’ve always been warm, but Kokichi still shudders and he slowly blinks up to look at Shuichi.

The first thing his eyes are drawn to is his hair. It’s dark in their room, but because of the lights of the city and the stars from the window you can make out almost everything. It’s odd, like under the darkness it’s almost an entirely different room then it is in the day. Shuichi’s blueish hair is sticking out at odd angles, clearly affected by sleep. That or he’d been nervously running his hands through his hair while Kokichi was still having his nightmare. Shuichi tended not to move around as much in his sleep compared to the menace of Kokichi who’d fall asleep on Shuichi’s chest and somehow end up sleeping sideways along the bed with half his body falling off when he awoke. How long had Shuichi even been awake?

His eyes suggest he’s a little tired, but they’re alert and aware. Brown, hazel, gold. They stare at Kokichi, really stare. They keep him pinned to the spot, keep him grounded. Shuichi’s eyes are flickering around, taking in every detail of Kokichi's face and examining it closely. He doesn’t even want to think about what his face looks like so he doesn’t. He feels a bit like one of Shuichi’s case files he keeps scattered on his desk, under heavy analysis and examination. If it were anyone else the uncomfortableness in his chest would be far too much, being looked at so closely, and he’d probably run, but here with Shuichi he stays. He doesn’t even know if he’d be able to run, his legs feel numb under him. 

Shuichi blinks at him, the light catching on his eyelashes and Kokichi can’t quite suppress another shudder as Shuichi looks at him with such genuine concern. He knows this isn’t his nightmare, this isn’t the fake Shuichi, but he can’t get the vision out of his head. How the fake Shuichi smiled in such a dishonest, untrustworthy way that put him immediately on edge, how tears had continued to fall down it’s face but made no effort to help him in the face of Dice’s corpses, how it’s hands had closed around his throat and slowly morphed into claws, digging into his neck and- 

“Hey.” 

Oh. He’d been spiralling down again. His vision had unfocused, leaving everything in dark blurred shapes that merge together. He blinks and his puffy eyes feel sticky, is he tearing up again? He feels shame and annoyance rise in him at the realization, for christ’s sake it had been a dream. Nothing that happened in it was real. 

Shuichi keeps staring at him, and Kokichi has half the mind to tell him to stop, to look away, but the boy’s hands tighten around his hips and he lets out a shaky sigh. Kokichi knows he hates this just as him, he hates having nightmares, and he hates seeing Kokichi like this. Yet he still stays with him, and it just makes Kokichi appreciate it that much more. 

Shuichi inhales and exhales deeply through his nose, like he’s trying to settle himself, before opening his eyes. 

“Can you name 5 times you can see?”

Shuichi repeats himself, still in the same quiet soft tone that matches the atmosphere of the room. Kokichi let’s out a bit of a huff, and he’s tempted to say this is stupid and refuse, but something in Shuichi’s eyes makes him listen. 

His sore eyes flicker around the room, squinting at dark shapes and trying to make sense of them. 

“Bed, wall, one... of my shirts on the floor, window,” His eyes go back to Shuichi. “You.”

His voice is still a little breathless and faint, like he’s just been he’s been for a light jog, and it bugs him. He thinks he’s having such trouble with handling this because he isn’t used to crying or getting upset or showing genuine emotion. He’s gotten better, a lot better through the years, but still he struggles with something as common as crying. 

Shuichi nods at him when he gets the words out. 

“Good, you’re doing good Kokichi.” 

And he hates how his heart flutters like he’s proud of such a pathetic achievement at the praise. What is he, 5? He clenches his fists and bites down the urge to smile stupidly. It’s like all his emotions are so much more sensitive, easy to manipulate and tug at. 

“4 things you can feel?” 

This seems to be helping not only him but Shuichi too, the boy’s hands had been rather tense around him and he slowly begins to relax as he asks the questions. 

Kokichi pauses for a moment to think, the fog in his head starting to clear up a little. His hand goes to touch one of the many pillows Kokichi insists on having on their bed. 

“The bed, pillow, shirt,” Again, another small pause as he glances up. He shifts his hips a little. “You.” 

Shuichi nods once again and this time there’s a small smile on his lips that gives Kokichi butterflies, flying around and tickling the inside of his chest when their wings hit the sides. It’s pathetic, but right now he pushes away the voice telling him he’s being foolish. 

“3 things you can hear?” 

There’s a sarcastic remark trying to form in his mouth, the urge to cover his good ear and snarkily reply with nothing, but he decides to refrain from it. He has a feeling Shuichi already knows what he’s thinking anyway. 

It’s really quiet. Kokichi doesn’t even know what time it is, but if he were to guess it’d probably be around two or three in the morning. It’s odd, being awake when it’s like the world thinks you shouldn’t. It’s almost like defying some sort of unspoken rule to sleep through the nights. 

“Cars outside down on the streets, heater in the other room.” He hums, his voice has gotten a little stronger and his heartbeat is going back down to a steady rhythm. He closes his eyes to focus on something else he can hear, and his ear catches the sound of Shuichi breathing. It’s comforting, hearing him breathe. 

“You.” Kokichi finishes with the simple word again. A small smile reaches his face, matching Shuichi’s. He’s not sure why, it’s not even that funny. 

Shuichi let’s out a little breathy laugh, like he’s relieved to see Kokichi finally smile. The atmosphere relaxes a bit. 

“2 things you can smell?” Shuichi prompts. Kokichi has to take a moment to think, blinking as his face scrunches up a little. Smell? Well… 

“Cold. You.” 

This time Shuichi doesn’t praise him immediately, instead he blinks at him a little surprised. 

“Cold? How can you smell cold?” He asks, a little confused. Kokichi can tell he’s asking to distract Kokichi more, and he appreciates it. 

Kokichi shrugs. 

“I don’t know, it’s cold. It makes my nose cold when I breathe in.” He really doesn’t know, his brain isn’t exactly functioning properly so he’d just said the first thing that came to mind. It’s true though, their apartment is rather cold, but thinking about it too hard just reminds him of his nightmare, so he doesn’t bother. 

“Wouldn’t that be something you can feel, not smell?” Shuichi tilts his head slightly as he asks, a lock of hair falling in front of his face. Kokichi desperately wants to brush it away. However he rolls his sore eyes at the question and huffs. 

“Like I said I don’t know, you think of something better.” His voice sounds a little annoyed and huffy, but it’s not genuine annoyance. He has a bit of a right to be a little snappy right now. 

Shuichi furrows his eyebrows a little, (Kokichi teases him often, saying if he keeps doing that with his eyebrows he’ll get a nasty wrinkle there) and his face settles into his thinking expression. Kokichi can easily recognize it and pick up the little details, how Shuichi will bite his lip slightly and his eyes narrow a fraction. It’s cute.

Shuichi’s eyes suddenly flicker up, and he looks like he has an idea judging from the little smile on his face. Kokichi doesn’t quite trust it and raises an eyebrow sceptically. 

Shuichi suddenly leans slightly forward and for a moment Kokichi thinks he’s about to kiss him. Memories of the nightmare flash in his mind, how fake Shuichi had kissed him despite his protests and the taste of awful metallic blood in his mouth and he tenses, but Shuichi doesn’t go for his face, instead he ends up resting his face in Kokichi… hair? 

He shivers in surprise when Shuichi suddenly inhales and exhales on his hair in an over exaggerated manner, causing some locks to shift. He’s really close. What the- 

“Hmm, grapes.” Shuichi hums thoughtfully, and his voice is muffled from his face resting in his hair but he swears he can hear a smile in his voice. 

Kokichi doesn’t know why, but the odd gesture rips a laugh from him before he has any say in it. His laugh isn’t like his loud obnoxious fake one that he specifically does to get on people's nerves, grate in their ears, it’s rather high and clear, like bells. He thinks it’s annoying, and it doesn’t help that it sounds kind of pathetic with how his vocal chords are wrecked from crying but he can’t bring himself to care. He brings up his hands and starts shoving Shuichi’s chest away from him, the fabric of his shirt soft under his palms.

“Oh my god, what are you, a dog?” Kokichi snorts while he pushes him and he hears laughter bubbling out of Shuichi too as he backs up, sitting back on his knees and raises his hands up in surrender. He hates to admit it, but the lame stupid attempt to be funny is genuinely making him laugh and lightening the dreary mood. He doesn’t even know if that was Shuichi's intention, but it somehow works. Shuichi Saihara has an effect on him like no other. 

“Sorry, ok ok.” Shuichi apologizes but he doesn’t really mean it, still smiling. He thinks he can hear an edge of relief in Shuichi’s voice, that act had probably been a gamble. Talking to Kokichi in general is always a gamble, he’s so seemingly random that most people never know what words or actions would hurt him or what ones would cause him to genuinely smile. Kokichi manages to calm down his weak laughter that causes his whole body to shake and looks back up to Shuichi.

He’d already known Shuichi was smiling, but it’s soft, so soft and genuine. It looks beautiful in the faint light of the city coming from the window, and it’s as if Shuichi’s eyes glow in adoration. Shuichi’s never had reason to hide anything he’s feeling, and he doesn’t hold back now. 

Kokichi struggles to believe that he’s causing that look. He’s the one who’s making Shuichi smile like that. Shuichi is happy because Kokichi is happy, that’s all there is to it. He’s jealous, somewhere deep inside of him, of Shuichi ability to be so kind, so caring, so human, but it’s overshadowed by the tightening of nothing but love in his chest for the stupid stupid boy in front of him. 

Shuichi mouth moves again, and it takes Kokichi a moment to focus.

“One thing you can taste?” 

Oh _god._ Wouldn't it be so rich if he just swept up Shuichi in a deep kiss and when he breathlessly pulls away he smirks and says ‘You.’ He’s so, so sorely tempted to do it, as cliche and gross and sappy as it'd be. But something holds him back. Memories of the fake Shuichi’s face close to his flash through his mind and he clenches his teeth, the smile on his face dimming and settling into a frown before he’s even aware of it. 

He looks away and probs the inside of his cheek with his tongue. It’s ragged from him biting the sides, and there’s a metallic edge to it that goes over his taste buds. The happy atmosphere starts to dim.

“Blood.” He murmured it quietly, honestly and looks away from Shuichi, almost ashamed by how quickly he dragged down the mood. He brings a finger to his mouth and swipes the inside of his cheek to check if it’s really blood. His fingertip comes away red. There’s a joke there, about taking prints, detectives and being caught red-handed. Kokichi doesn’t bother trying to piece something together though. 

He’s suddenly struck with how much he hated that nightmare. All his previous ones were blurs of shapes and noise and smells, like he was in a pool of water trying desperately to reach for the light of above water but the surface tension never breaks, leaving him in the muffled cold. He hates that amongst all the bad in his life, all the grief, all the pain, his mind can’t let him have this one nice thing. It won’t let him just be happy with Shuichi, instead constantly whispering things to him, words toxic and lethal like acid dripping from its mouth, second guessing what he does, what Shuichi does, forcing him to hold back at times when it suddenly causes fear of being open and getting close to Shuichi like it had been when they’d first met. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he lets out a slightly shaky sigh of annoyance. 

Hands move from his waist up to his thin shoulders, slowly and carefully, and he doesn’t need to look at Shuichi to know what he’ll see. Sadness, worry, barely concealed pity. It’s not that he hates Shuichi caring for him or worrying for him, it’s more he feels bad about it. Shuichi already has a stuffed suitcase filled with issues to deal with on his own, he doesn’t need Kokichi‘s airplane filled with nothing but suitcases about to burst at the seams crushing him. 

He feels Shuichi let out a sigh and his hands grip Kokichi’s shoulders a little tighter. One of his hands move up carefully and slowly, so Kokichi knows his intentions, and he brings it up to cup Kokichi’s face. He stills for a moment, trying to decide something, before he relaxes, and leans into the warm touch with the ghost of a smile on his face. He hums. Because he’s weak.

“Do you…wanna talk about it?” 

It’s a dangerous question, a risky question, and he feels Shuichi tense as he asks it. It saddens him a little that Shuichi is scared of how Kokichi will react, but he can’t blame him. Kokichi is unpredictable.

He ponders the question for a few moments. Does he want to talk about it? His therapist and Shuichi have told him it’s good to be open about things that are bothering him, that venting can go a long way in helping him feel better. Bottling things up is never healthy, he knows that, god does he ever know that. 

And yet… as he stares at his clenched fists on his lap, making out the faintest blurred shapes of Shuichi arms in his peripheral vision, he knows. He knows he’s not quite ready to tell Shuichi everything that had happened in his nightmare. It’s not him trying to lock it away in a box while its writhing and screams in him, lashing out and causing him to bleed, the memories of the nightmare are still there and unpleasant, but they’re not gnawing at his chest, making him feel like he’s about to burst.

Tomorrow. He’ll tell him tomorrow. When it’s bright outside and he’s gotten his face cleaned up and he’s not so unbelievably tired.

He shakes his head, looking up to lock eyes with Shuichi. He silently communicates with him with his expression, letting Shuichi know that it’s not because he's trying to push it down and pretend it never happened. He knows either way that even if tomorrow his mind changes and it refuses to let him talk, Shuichi will be there. Not pushing him too hard if he really can’t say it, but not being too soft and letting Kokichi suffer with it alone. He trusts him to do that. He trusts Shuichi.

Shuichi sucks in a breath and exhales slowly, and nods back at him wordlessly. He can see in Shuichi’s eyes that he desperately wants to know, but he holds back in favour of letting Kokichi tell him when he’s ready. He’s grateful for it.

Kokichi’s eyes travel over to the white blanket that he’d kicked away from him during his nightmare, somehow managing to hold on and stay on. He’d have to ask Shuichi tomorrow if he’s ok after witnessing however bad it had been when Kokichi was trapped in his mind. With the strain of the nightmare, the crying, and everything after, Kokichi is suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion that causes his body to sway slightly. Shuichi, with his hands still on him, notices, and he turns his head to look at where Kokichi is looking.

Without a word, Shuichi lets his hands fall away from Kokichi’s shoulder and face, and Kokichi can’t help but bring up a hand and touch where they’d been, missing the warmth a bit. Shuichi leans forward, reaching out with his long arms as he takes either side of the blanket and shakes it out, the parts that have bunched together immediately falling away. Kokichi simply watches him the entire time, his eyes gradually growing heavier and heavier. 

Shuichi then brings up the spread blanket close to them but not quite over them, it flutters down to rest by Kokichi’s side. The mattress creaks as Shuichi sits back in the same position as before and glances up at Kokichi.

Without a word, Shuichi hesitantly half opens his arms, looking at Kokichi with an edge of nervousness. He looks really uncertain, and it reminds Kokichi a lot of the boy he’d first met all that time ago in that abandoned office building. If only Kokichi had known, if only he’d known Shuichi would become his everything.

He half smiles, amused at how apprehensive Shuichi looks at the prospect of Kokichi simply turning away and sleeping away from Shuichi. He pretty much collapses into the boy’s arms, letting out the faintest huff of laughter at the surprised noise that leaves Shuichi’s mouth.

Shuichi relaxes and hums, holding Kokichi for a few moments in place before he shifts both their bodies around to about the middle of the mattress. Kokichi doesn’t bother resisting in any way as Shuichi lays down with Kokichi resting motionless on top of him, still in his arms. Shuichi takes a moment to lean forward and grab the blanket with one hand, draping it over both of them before it comes back to wrap around Kokichi’s small body. He feels… safe. 

A sigh escapes Kokichi, his tired limbs finally able to properly relax. He shifts himself slightly over Shuichi, bringing his arms around him, wrapping his legs around his torso and shifting his head under Shuichi’s chin, no doubt tickling him a bit with his hair that still sticks out uneven and choppy, yet soft. Shuichi’s body is warm and comforting, and like this Kokichi can make out the faintest beating of his heart.

Kokichi is suddenly struck with how much he loves Shuichi, right then and there. He’s always loved him, he knows that, but he could live a thousand lifetimes and never be able to express it enough. If it weren’t for Shuichi he’d be all alone dealing with this nightmare, still pushing down everything. Well, really if it wasn’t for Shuichi he wouldn’t even be here today. Shuichi had saved him, he’d found him. Kokichi had been lost and Shuichi had found him.

To this day, Kokichi still struggled saying I love you. It wasn’t because he didn’t love Shuichi, he did, he really did, it was more like some sort of mental block. Whenever he tried to mutter the words with Shuichi’s eyes on him his entire body felt like it was burning and that overwhelming sensation would take hold. He’s not sure why that is, maybe it’s because he’s never loved someone as he does with Shuichi, and he’s never had someone love him like Shuichi does in return. Regardless, it makes all those few moments when Kokichi says I love you mean so much more.

He huffs, and his fingers clench Shuichi’s shirt.

“Thank you…” He mumbles quietly into Shuichi's neck. Thank you isn’t quite something he struggles with, but Kokichi has spent his entire life playing this carefree, sarcastic, unapologetic act, so thank yous are just not that common for him.

He can’t see Shuichi’s face, but the boy stills for a moment, before Kokichi hears some shifting and there’s a hand in his hair, fingers carefully going through the locks and Kokichi feels his chest flutter a little when they go over his scalp, a soft sound escaping him.

“Kokichi Ouma? Saying thank you?” 

Shuichi’s voice is tired and quiet, clearly he’s just as exhausted as Kokichi, but he still manages a little spark of teasing in his voice. Kokichi lets out a little grunt of annoyance, too tired and too busy enjoying Shuichi playing with his hair to think up a witty comeback. He has a feeling Shuichi knows. Annoying idiot. However there’s still a bit of a tone in Shuichi’s voice that indicates he’s genuinely touched by the two words, like it’s more than he was expecting.

“Don’t get used to it, and don’t go telling people I did or it’ll ruin my reputation.” 

He replies as dramatic as ever, keeping his face hidden but there’s a slight tired smile trying to form. Shuichi’s probably smiling too, and Kokichi doesn’t even have to look to imagine the details perfectly. It’s not quite comparable to the real thing, but it still makes his heart swell.

Shuichi yawns above him, settling down and resting his head closer to Kokichi’s as he keeps running his fingers through his hair. Kokichi swears Shuichi must be doing some sort of magic bullshit or whatever because there’s no way the simple action of playing with his hair should be putting him to sleep so fast. His eyes are already relaxed and closed by the time Shuichi speaks again. 

“Oh I won’t, nobody would believe me. I can tell myself sometimes though, but I doubt I’d believe it either.”

Kokichi would let out a laugh if he weren’t so exhausted and on the verge of sleep. Leave it to Shuichi to say something stupid like that. The sincerity of his tone however, is enough to make Kokichi’s heart flutter a little even like this. 

He sighs, and opens his eyes a fraction, unable to properly see with how blurred it is and how he’s so close his nose is almost touching Shuichi’s throat. He should say it, he really should. He wants to say I love you so badly, because this is the perfect time, this would be the perfect moment to really let Shuichi know how much this means to him. He shifts a little, and his head is starting to hurt a little with how he’s thinking too hard trying to muster up the courage to say- 

“I love you.”

Shuichi beats him to it. It’s always Shuichi, isn’t it? Had he known about Kokichi’s little internal dilemma he was going through? Maybe he hasn’t quite exactly, but maybe he’d had just a feeling of what Kokichi was thinking. It’s like Shuichi had a sixth sense for this kind of stuff. 

He can read between the lines on the I love you. It’s an offer he can take whatever way he likes. He can meet it with silence, a simple yeah, or maybe even another thank you. Shuichi said it so Kokichi doesn’t feel pressured to be the first to say the words. He sucks in a breath and keeps his eyes squinted open. Four words, four simple words.

He intakes a deep breath, glad for his face being covered, and blindly reaches out one of his hands, feeling around until they find Shuichi’s hand wrapped around him that isn’t in his hair. He carefully takes Shuichi’s longer fingers in his small hand, intertwining them and holding them close as he squeezes Shuichi hand a little. 

It’s only a moment before Shuichi squeezes back, a simple, kind gesture that Shuichi doesn’t hesitate to return. It’s what he needs to give him courage to say it back. 

He shivers a little, before a smile creeps up his face. It’s not a wide faked grin, it’s real, so real. 

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> ahahahahahsdgsjksfsjds srry if there was any mistakes or this wasnt very good whats writing oh my god haha hands shake cutely i cant believe i posted this barbie ily btw country roads take me home to the place i beloooonggg
> 
> feel free to yell at me dkjsjfd


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